


Shut Up

by VisionaryGalaxy



Series: A Thousand Futures of Me and You [57]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Banter, Boys In Love, Don't copy to another site, Drabble, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, No Angst, Short & Sweet, Sick Fic, Sick Tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 01:28:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17653418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VisionaryGalaxy/pseuds/VisionaryGalaxy
Summary: Tony is sick and Stephen had his own way of handling him.





	Shut Up

**Author's Note:**

> I was going through my stories and I realized that at fifty six fics, I haven't written a single simple sick fic with these boys. Unacceptable, so here is the remedy.

   Stephen was amused.

   It was nearly three in the afternoon and he was currently curled up on a comfortable chair, in the corner of Tony’s workshop, peering over the top of his book at the man himself, studiously tinkering at some unidentifiable machine.

   He had been at it for a grand total of forty minutes, and Stephen was hiding his grin behind his book as he listened to Tony’s nearly constant sniffling. He was attempting and failing to wipe subtly at his nose with a tissue, as though he could some how hide the evidence of his cold.

   Unfortunately, however, he had graduated to coughing as of ten minutes ago, no longer able to contain the mucus filling his lungs. He would tilt his head quickly into his elbow and cough three times in quick succession, as though he could pass it off as a reaction to the fumes swirling in the workshop.

   Stephen didn’t know what was funnier, the childishness or the true stubbornness of a man who refused to admit weakness, even to something as inevitable as bacteria. He would be content to sit and watch for hours, if it wasn’t for the beading on his brow, the paling of his skin, the redness of his nose and cheeks, or the haziness in his eyes.

   To Stephen’s trained eye it was obviously nothing more then the common cold. While generally harmless, Tony was certainly more at risk for complications courtesy of his fragile heart and utter refusal to acknowledge the symptoms, luckily, that was what Stephen was for.

   Still, it could wait a bit longer. Too soon and Tony would be unbearable to handle, moaning about his unfinished project and claiming he was well enough to continue. No, better to let things go for another thirty minutes or so.

   Yet, only five had passed before Tony spoke up.

   “Shut up.”

   Stephen didn’t look up from his book, “I didn’t say anything.”

   “I’m not sick,” he grumbled.

   Stephen flipped a page.

   “I’m _not_. Its just the fumes in here, and Spring has started.”

   He flipped again.

   A glance up showed Tony’s eyes trained on the metal piece in front him and using a rag to wipe at his forehead, despite the fact he was in a tank top and had ‘secretly’ turned the air conditioning up ten minutes ago.

   With a wave of his hand a tea was summoned, steaming and ready to be consumed just to the side of his project. There was silence, though it was filled to the brim with the hostile energy of a man who loathed to be taken care of, Stephen would have laughed if he didn’t think something would be thrown at him.

   His gaze flickered up again just in time to see Tony tentatively reaching for the cup, attempting to be stealthy, about it so Stephen wouldn’t hear him. He pulled it closed and sniffed cautiously at the liquid and Stephen rolled his eyes, knowing the man’s entire beverage intake revolved around water, coffee, and alcohol. Sure enough, not a moment after inhaling the scent, his nose wrinkled and his whole body recoiled from the cup as though it were poison.

   “Ugh,” he set it down, well out of the way.

   Stephen pretended not to notice. Flipped page after page, eyes skimming the information. Eight minutes passed according to Stephen’s watch, tucked just under the sleeve of his robes when he heard the quietest tap. In the guise of stretching his neck, he saw Tony had once again picked up the cup, his hands wrapped tightly around its warmth. Stephen watched, grinning, as he took the smallest of sips, recoiled, then resolutely took another. It wasn’t long until he was drinking it regularly, before setting it back on the table. Stephen silently refilled it, all but preening as he did so.

   “Shut up.”

   Stephen hummed and flipped a page.

   Ten minutes passed and Stephen hadn’t missed the shivers moving through Tony’s body, though it didn’t seem to be from cold and he quickly identified it as the achy feeling that liked to crawl through sick people’s bodies. Pursing his lips, Stephen debated.

   Finally, he stood and stretched. Tony was watching him from his work bench, hunched in on himself and all but radiating childish resentment as though he knew exactly what Stephen was planning to do. Except clearly, he hadn’t realized how manipulative Stephen was willing to be to get this man-baby to take care of himself.

   Stephen stretched again, twisted his neck and winced. Flexed his fingers a few more times and grimaced at the familiar shooting pain, though this time he had an agenda behind it.

   “Are you al-” a coughing fit interrupted Tony, the sound painful and raw.

   Stephen threw a look at him and by the time he had stopped he was flushed with irritation and embarrassment.

   “Fine,” Stephen answered the unfinished question. “Just thinking about heading back to the Sanctuary.”

   Tony’s entire expression drooped, something not so far from a pout slipping onto his lips and again Stephen would laugh if it wouldn’t ruin the carefully laid plan. He had learned very quickly, that when his boyfriend was ill, whether that be the common cold or having been smashed into a building, he became increasingly needy. The reason being his inability to stand himself, he wanted company so he wouldn’t be locked in his own head while the injury prevented him from enjoying other distractions.

   This time was no different. No more then a second past and Tony straighten, some of the haziness in his eyes being crowded out by a determined pleading, he tapped his project twice in quick succession before picking up the rag and wiping his hands.

   “Actually, I was just finishing here. Thought we could hang out for awhile longer?”

   He tried for casualness, but the effect was ruined by his sickly voice, though bless the wreak of a man for trying. Stephen pretended to consider, eyes darting toward the clock on the wall behind him, before letting out a quiet sigh and shooting him a playful smile, “alright.”

   Tony all but hopped from his stool, and Stephen motioned at the stairs, “I was thinking,” he began slowly. “there was that old movie you kept going on about a week ago. I don’t remember what it is called but we could watch that.”

   The mechanic’s eyes narrowed instantly, and Stephen simply raised an eyebrow, daring him to protest when he so clearly wanted to lie down and relax. It was like the man had zero concept of self-care and while Stephen wasn’t much better in that department, his medical doctorate said he could get away with, unlike Tony.

   Reluctantly, the man followed Stephen to the living room. The movie took all of two minutes to set up and soon enough Stephen was reaching out to grab Tony’s hand and forcibly pull him down onto the couch next to him, despite his protests.

   “Stephen stop! I can sit over there.”

   “Hmm, why? Its not like you’re sick.”

   He forcibly maneuvered the man so he could lay down, head on Stephen’s lap, a light throw resting on his feverish body. He seemed to have given up quickly, which was the plan of course and now Stephen indulged himself.

   On the coffee table, as the commercials played, Stephen summoned tissues, a bowl of soup, another cup of steaming hot tea, and a pillow beneath his head. Finally, he summoned a water bottle and two Tylenol which he presented to the man, as he propped him up.

   Tony stared down at the pills and immediately began complaining, “I’m not a child Stephen, quit treating me like one!” There was no heat to the words, just a deep-seated dislike for coddling, and while Stephen didn’t particularly like coddling the man, he did find it endlessly funny.

   He shoved both items into his hands, “Sure, I can do that as soon as you stop acting like one.”

   “I’ll remember this,” he warned, as he downed the pills.

   Stephen noted his still hazy eyes, the distinct wince of a man with a headache and shook his head, “I doubt it, now lay down.”

   With some pushing and prodding, Tony was back to laying with his head on his lap, while Stephen began to gently run his fingers through Tony’s hair. The movie started and not twenty minutes in he could see Tony’s eyes drooping from exhaustion.

   Stephen grinned in triumph once more.

   “Shut up,” came Tony’s sleepy, croaking voice, barely audible. “I’m not sick.”

   Stephen simply hummed and kept stroking his hair.

**Author's Note:**

> There will be one for Stephen in due time.   
> I hope everyone enjoyed, let me know what you thought!


End file.
